One
The Meeting
"Crap."
I begin to run, my heavy school bag flying up and down violently. The wind nips at my skirt, threatening to lift it up and expose underneath, though luckily my blazer is long enough to hide it.
The footsteps behind me don't stop. In fact, they quicken.
Terror claws at me, ripping my heart to shreds; to the point where I want to scream. But my school is so close now; there's no point in trying.
"Get back here, you!" The person behind me hisses. I manage to work out that my pursuer is a man, and from what I can tell he sounds English.
I turn my head and get a good look at the man. He's fairly tall but has a skinny frame, with short blonde hair and a light beard. The lavish black business suit he wears doesn't improve my opinion of him in the slightest.
I continue to run, the school gates appearing in my line of sight. Even though I've only been running for half a minute I'm already exhausted.
As I reach the front of the school I begin to scream; "Help!" is all I get out before the man thrusts his arm around my throat and begins to choke me.
"You shut up," He hisses, fiddling with something in his pocket.
A few of my classmates walk out from the nearby toilet block, almost screaming in terror when they see me. They turn and head for the main office building, shouting at everyone to get inside.
The man curses. "Well that cuts my plan off a bit."
He pulls out what looks like a thin, silver stick and presses one of the many buttons on its 'handle'. A small green light appears from one end, buzzing horrifically loud in my ear.
A piece of music begins to play over the loudspeakers, prompting everyone to rush inside. I recognise it as the instrumental to 'Amazing Grace'; a fitting lockdown code for a Christian school.
The man curses again and marches me forward into the courtyard of the school, throwing my bag onto the concrete. I cringe as I hear the Science project I've spent three weeks working on smash inside.
"Ha!" The man shouts sarcastically, somehow using his green device as a microphone. "So you wanna play it like that, huh? Hide inside and let me have this girl all to myself? Wow, you Aussies are so nice. Really, I mean it; I'm crying with happiness."
He laughs before glaring inside the closest classroom, the students under the desks inside cowering, looking on in fear. The silver stick he holds glows again; snickering, he points it at my head.
"Alright. Here's the deal; let me take the girl and I'll reward you all with whatever you want," The man shouts threateningly.
No one answers. I can feel myself beginning to succumb to my terror; I bite my lip to hide my cries as the man laughs again.
"So you really don't seem to care about her? Hey, that's great. Makes this a whole lot easier," The man says loudly. He begins to back me away, heading towards the school gates.
"Okay. So maybe I won't reward you all; I'm not that rich anyway," He shouts. "I'll just take the girl then, 'kay? Great, thank you!"
Before I can react, my captor turns and throws me over his shoulder. Ignoring my attempts to escape, he turns and begins to sprint, heading back the same way I'd come to school.
"Let me go!" I scream, punching the man as hard as I could. Nothing I do seems to affect him; he almost seems like he's Superman or something.
The man reaches the end of the street, only panting slightly. He curses when the sound of sirens begins to grow louder, turns left and starts running down a lane of houses. And yet I continue to scream, with no one to hear me.
"You're...certainly...a fighter," The man says in between breaths sarcastically. "Trust me, I'm..trying to...help-"
He drifts off as a police car comes swerving around the corner, heading towards us. I can't see it, but I'm positive there's at least two behind the man as well.
Ignoring every road rule in existence, the cop car in front of us drives up onto the pavement and parks in the drain gutter. Two police jump out and run towards us, screaming at my captor to stop.
The man stops and turns right, running across the road and narrowly dodging another car, whose bumper bar smashes into a nearby gumtree.
Suddenly, the man drops me and falls to the ground, almost landing on top of me. My head hits something, its edges quite sharp. A burst of pain swiftly erupts; I pull on my hair in agony. Blood begins to spill onto the pavement, forming a slick puddle that shines in the daylight. I can't tell if it's the man's or mine.
A couple of people pick me up and carry me over the road to one of the police cars. One cop is putting her gun away and hurries to the man, telling the other officers to fire if he tries anything.
The world spins rapidly as I'm set down on the grass, still wet with condensation. I touch the side of my face and pull my hand away, the tips of my fingers sparkling with drops of blood.
"Are you okay, miss?" One of the cops says to me. She pulls out a bottle of water and - after yelling for someone to call an ambulance - starts to wipe away the blood on my face.
The second the cool liquid touches my face I curse. "Oh that stings!"
My head hurts. And bad. The pounding just won't stop. Despite having my glasses on my vision blurs considerably. The world spins and I start to feel sick. I didn't even care about being polite when the paramedics arrived and I think they noticed; they let me collapse on a stretcher and give me a bunch of painkillers, which were gladly accepted, to say the least.
It must be close to lunch by the time I feel stable enough to sit up again. I touch the side of my head and feel the fabric of a waterproof bandage, soaking up the remaining blood.
The police take their sweet time questioning me; they wanted to know every little detail, from what time I got off the bus this morning to if my phone had 'magically' recorded anything the man said before the attack.
At two thirty I'm allowed to eat my lunch - never has a Vegemite sandwich tasted this good to me before. School is canceled for the rest of the day; as I walk away from the ambulance I notice huge groups of students hanging around an empty bus bay. They'll be there for a while, as our buses don't arrive until three o'clock.
As I start the half hour walk home, my thoughts are all but organised. So many things begin to form, so many 'what if's. What if I hadn't reached the school in time? What if I'd left home later this morning?
"What if he had managed to get away with me?" I whisper, shuddering slightly.
"Well that is something you luckily don't have to worry about."
I jump and am thinking about running for my life when the stranger speaks again. "Hey, relax! I'm not goin to kill you or do anything."
A tall, stick-like man strolls up to me, his hands tucked deeply into the pockets of his impractically-long coat. Unlike my would-be kidnapper, this man has scruffy brown hair and dark eyes, which seems to give off some sort of 'kind aroma'. He doesn't look like he wants to kill me, so maybe I can at least respond to him.
The man stops directly in front of me and fixes his unkept tie. It somehow managed to stay as messy as before. "They take him away alright?"
I nod. "Shot him. Not like I'd care though."
"Seemed like that was his first time doing that," The man says. "I mean, come on; if you're going to kidnap someone, don't march into a crowded place and tell everyone you're going to do it. That ruins the surprise."
I can't help but give a small smile.
"Do you think you'll be okay to walk home?" The man starts to walk away, but stops and swerves around on the spot. "No. No of course not. You wouldn't be, not after that. Never mind, forget that plan; I'll come with you."
"Sir, I appreciate your concern, but there's really no need." I say. "Just talking to me has been enough, and I don't want to take you away from-"
"Oh, please, it'd be my pleasure. And besides, I had no other plans for the day. Well, that is stretching the truth - is that the right saying? - but no matter. It can wait." The man smiles again. "Come on! Allons-y!"
I raise an eyebrow as the man skips along the footpath, catching up to me in a matter of seconds. He has this youthful air about him; I start to wonder how old he is. Maybe early twenties, but he acts like such an innocent child.
I turn away from my thoughts as the man speaks again. "You know, you've got the most interesting stuff around here. Like, look at this!" He stops and points at what I consider to be just another tree. "A gumtree, just outside a person's house! Incredible!"
"..Don't they have trees where you're from?"
"Yes. Wait. No." The man contradicts himself several times before kicking a rock at a nearby magpie, who promptly fled the empty McDonald's bag it was searching, "It's, uh, complicated. Honestly though, you've literally got - oh, what do you call 'em again? Ah! Kangaroos! - at your front door around here! Absolutely amazing."
I don't have the heart to tell him that there aren't any kangaroos in these suburbs, so instead I ask, "You ever been here before?"
"Oh. Yeah, I-I guess," The man stutters, scratching his head. He starts muttering to himself. "This was one of the most beautiful parts of the country-"
I stop and look at him, waiting for the realisation of what he just said to sink in. He
"I thought you'd never been here, huh?" I ask slyly. "I've been livin here all my life and..sir?"
The man hisses in a breath and fiddles with a button on his coat. I hear him curse to himself. "Look, I hope that doesn't sound too out-there, but-"
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a few students from my school walking towards us, some of them giving us strange looks. But when I recognise who they are, I start to panic. No, no, no, they can't do it now; not with this guy around.
Turning around I begin to walk faster, ignoring the man's protests. The sound of footsteps tells me he's following me; I hope that doesn't give the others any ideas.
"Where are you going?!" The man says for the fifth time, clearly sounding exasperated. I continue to ignore him until we reach the end of the street and turn the corner, thanking for the large fence that blocks our view of the students. Loud shouts confirm my suspicions; they think I'm trying to avoiding them.
Great.
"Follow me," I tell him, sprinting further down the footpath. He doesn't answer me, but obediently follows along with everything I do.
Once we're about a k up the road, I jump over a short fence and into a bunch of bushes, the man almost falling on top of me.
"What are you do-" He starts to ask, but when I hear the same shouts from before I put my hand over his mouth, leaving him to grumble in protest.
From inside the bush I can still see a bit of the outside world, but not much through the thick green leaves. This is one of those times where I really could use Harry Potter's invisibility cloak; my skin has already been scratched to pieces by some prickles.
A few seconds later the same kids from before stop in front of our bush, clearly confused as to my whereabouts. The man attempts to make a noise, but I continue to shush him.
One of the taller boys in the group throws his hands up and sighs. "Well, I dunno where the hell she is. Maybe that was a relative or somethin'."
"That's rubbish, Mark! He looked nothing like her; I say she's being raped as we speak." A girl with short black hair pipes up.
"Yeah? Well your mum looks nothing like you - she's not a fat, nerdy pumpkin!"
All of the other group members laugh and cry out at Mark's epic burn. It takes all my willpower not to snigger at that remark. It is true, though; poor Lucy's mum is, according to schoolyard rumour, a size six. And yet Lucy is apparently an eighteen.
"Mate, that's not cool. Not cool man," Another boy says, shaking his head.
"Darren, just shut up, will you?" Mark snaps. He throws his hands up. "Let's just go; I give up. We'll get 'er tomorrow."
Mark leads the group back the way they came, the familiar sounds of cursing and laughter fading away into the afternoon air.
I wait for at least a minute to make sure they're gone before taking my hand away from the man. We help each other out of the bush and brush away the leaves that had fallen into our hair.
The man fixes his tie again and gives me a confused look. "What was that for?"
"Look, don't get mad at me. They would've beaten the crap outta you, especially after what happened this morning," I say defensively.
Obviously still miffed, the man bounces up and down on his toes. "Friends of yours?"
I shake my head. "Not in a million years. They hate almost everyone and everyone hates them; win-win for all of us."
The man nods understandingly. "Hmm. They don't seem to be the nicest chaps."
"Sure aren't."
"Something tells me they have a thing against you." The man proposes, picking a daisy from the grass next to the road. "Do they..bully you?"
I gaze down at the concrete, trying to avoid answering the question. But the feeling of knowing the man is still staring at me gets to me. "In a way, yes-"
"Why do they? They just don't like you or what?"
"It's a really long story," I say honestly.
The man takes off his coat and lays it on the ground. He sits on part of it and pats the ground next to him. "I think we can spare the time for it."
I nod and take off my bag, sliding in next to the man. Still can't believe I haven't asked what his name is yet and here I am telling him part of my life story.
"Few years back Lucy and I became best friends," I start off. "We absolutely loved being with each other. She let me cry when I had a bad night with my parents and I listened to her rant on about different parts of life."
I take out my ponytail and place the hair tie around my wrist, letting my hair fall to my shoulder blades. "Well, stuff happened and we had a falling out; it was her fault it happened, not mine. We kinda hated each other's guts for the next few years. Somehow she ended up in that group of 'friends' and I'm all alone."
The man nods casually. "So it's just a classic case of huma-sorry, teenage girl problems."
"Exactly." I undo my top button and start to loosen my tie. "How I hate wearing this."
"Is that what you think?!" The man says suddenly.
I jump in surprise. "Wait-"
"I happen to like my tie, thank you!" The man protests. "At least I not wearing, you know; oh, what do you call them? 'Gangster pants' or somethin'."
I can't help it; I start laughing. "It's gangsta pants-"
"Yeah, well, close enough," The man grumbles.
"What I meant was that I don't think ties suit girls," I explain. "But I do like your tie, just sayin'."
The man smiles his thanks. He jumps up and dusts himself off before proclaiming, "Well then! Shall we continue onwards?"
He extends his hand towards me in a very gentleman-y way. This makes me grin as I pull myself up. "I say we go for it."
"Excellent!" The man jumps on the spot as I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. What remains of my Science project rattles around inside; hope my teacher isn't too angry at me.
We continue our walk down the road, passing by never-ending traffic and the occasional cyclist. As the man blabbers on to me, every now and then I gently nudge him around a pile of lives or make sure he doesn't step on a galah. He seems to be very passionate about what he's talking about. And I see he's still got that daisy in his front coat pocket.
Eventually the man's rant comes back to me. "So, what's your name, my dear? It just came to me that I don't know that yet."
"Dakota Vigil," I say. "Though everyone calls me either 'Emo' or 'That Loser With No Friends'."
The man frowns to himself. "Hmm. Dakota. Interesting. Never known a Dakota before. Known a Sarah and a Jo, but no Dakota."
"They friends of yours?"
"Yes. Well, kind of. Some ask if they were more than that, but I have to tell them no," The man says softly.
"That's gotta suck," I tell him.
He nods sadly and looks up at the sky. "Well, I mean I didn't think of them anything other than friends, but...there was..."
The man stops walking and shakes his head before smiling. "You know what, it's too complicated. Let's just keep going."
"What happened?" I ask, stepping over a pile of twigs.
The man is silent for a few seconds, but eventually replies, "She got...taken away from me..."
I notice a few tears slipping down the man's face, though he quickly wipes them away. Overwhelming compassion forces me to put my arm around his shoulder, though despite myself being fairly tall I have to slightly stand on my toes to reach.
"I'm sorry," I say as soothingly as I can. I'm not good with this comforting sort of thing; it's been a long time since I've had to do anything like this.
The man continues to walk onwards, his expression unchanged. "It's alright, don't apologise. It's been a while since then. Don't know why...it still hurts to think about her."
I can myself wanting to tear up, but like the man I force it away. It seems both of us are quite good at doing that.
"Anyway. Enough depressing stories," The man sniffs again and smiles broadly. "What about you? What sorts of-" Stopping, the man does a small twirl, "-stories do you have?"
I shrug. "All of my stories involve depression."
"Oh, come on. There has to be something in there-"
"Nah, I'm serious!" I protest. "I'm not the cheeriest person on the planet."
"There has to be some sort of happy-ish story floating around inside that head!" The man presses on. "Everyone has a story to tell, and I want to hear yours."
Before I can anything, the man stops walking and moves to stand in my way, still grinning. He's doing that a lot, to be honest.
"In fact, I'm stopping this expedition until you tell me something 'bout yourself," The man pokes me on the shoulder. I groan and chuckle for a bit.
"Alright, alright. Mate, you're very persistent." I push my glasses back up my nose. "I've got no mum, Dad hates me and my brother Liam, and I've got nothing to live for. What else would you like to know?"
The man stops smiling. He tilts his head slightly before putting his hands on the sides of my face, his expression emotionless. I'm about to ask him what he's doing when it happens; images and memories appear in some sort of line at the front of my mind, some being 'tossed' aside. I think the man is looking for something I don't want to tell him.
I can't move or speak. All I can see is all of my memories being sorted through by the man, who opposite me with his eyes closed, as though he's in very deep thought.
The man quickly scans through a few memories, including ones I don't even remember, such as my birth. To my surprise I hear him comment in my mind; Hmm. Caesarean. Very interesting. Haven't seen one of those for a while.
He also looks at one of my favourite memories; the first time I told my crush I liked him. I can feel butterflies going through my stomach as I re watch it, prompting the man to say, Your dopamine level just increased - by a lot, I should think. Is that normal?
Sir, I reply, I'm a teenage girl who has a crush. Of course that's normal.
Eventually a select few memories are pulled out to the front of the 'line', each being 'selected' one at a time. My happy feelings vanish quickly. I want to cry when I realise which ones the man wants to look at; I mentally scream out to him to stop, but he doesn't.
The first memory starts to play. I remember when this one was - pretty sure it was 2013, to be exact. I'm sitting outside one of the classrooms in primary school, staring at the cold wooden deck. Wow, did my hair really look like that? A bob and fringe makes me look like I'm ten.
Lucy comes up to me, her face calm and blank. I feel a tear slip down my cheek when I realise what she's about to say.
"Dakota, this isn't working out." Lucy tells me. "Maybe we just shouldn't be friends anymore."
I watch the rest of the memory unfold quite rapidly; like someone was pressing the fast forward button. The memory version of me begins to cry and shout in protest at Lucy, who nonchalantly walks away. I run through the playground towards my mother, who envelops me in an enormous hug as the first bell of the day rings in the background.
The memories that follow are even worse. I watch in desperation as I have to relive going to my mother's bedside at the hospital as she finally succumbed to brain cancer. Giving my speech at the funeral. Dad beating me with a stick, all because I hadn't achieved a high mark on my Maths test.
I watch as the friends I made after Lucy slowly drift away and turn on me. The teachers who I thought cared about me start to become nasty towards me. Sitting through countless detentions because of my breakdowns. Eventually the man arrives at the last memory he pulled out. The one I hoped to never see again.
Stop, I plead. Please sir, stop it.
To my surprise, I hear a response. I'm trying.
The memory starts to play back. A woman is sitting in the old timber kitchen in our house, the lights all off, except for a single candle she lights. She's crying into dirty hands, a pen and piece of paper with blue writing next to her.
No. Please, please don't make me watch.
Screaming in horror, I use all of my strength to push the memory away and the world around me snaps back into focus. I stumble backwards from the man, who's standing there in a state of shock. My cheeks are drenched in tears; I didn't realise I was crying till now. I'm shaking with anger, my fists clenched so hard that my nails are cutting into my palms.
The man goes to speak, but I angrily cut him off, glaring as hard as I could.
"Get away from me."
"Look, I'm sorry, but-"
"I don't care if you apologise or not!" I scream. "What did you do?!"
The man gives me a surprised look. "What?"
"I mean, how'd you do that? Like, dive into my mind?" I ask, forcing myself to calm down.
The man's mouth opens and closes, unsure what to say. "Uh.."
He looks around us before grabbing my arm and sprinting back towards the school, oblivious to my protests. I don't know how he has this much energy; it's a good couple of k's from where we were to the school and is a long way to run.
Some way or another we ended up back at the place we first met, my chest absolutely heaving for breath. But the man doesn't stop; he pulls me down another street and crashes through someone's front garden before arriving at an old park. He lets me go and starts to run through the trees, shouting out to me. "Hurry up! Allons-y!"
After stomping my way through piles of twigs and nearly being swooped by a pissed magpie, I stop to catch my breath - wow, am I unfit - only to lose it again when I see what's in front of me.
The man is standing next to a large blue box - it must be just under half a meter taller than him - with a collection of words printed in white text all over it; I catch sight of 'PUBLIC CALL' and 'POLICE BOX'.
What the box has in height it doesn't make up for in width. The thing itself is tiny; maybe a couple of phone booths wide, but otherwise it's quite a cute size.
"What'dya think?" The man beams at me, walking around the box as he talked. "Quite fond of her, actually. Been incredibly useful; oh, you have no idea!"
I still can't breathe properly, so I just walk over and give the man my best 'What-is-that-thing' face. His eyes light up and he comes over to me.
"It's called a Tardis," He explains casually, as though this sounded completely normal. "Travels through time and space and, well, has helped me save the universe countless times. Would you like to come in? Oh, yes; I can show you what I found in Russia yesterday - a piece of an ancient meteorite!"
Finally my breath came back to me, but I only uttered, "What?"
The man's face fell, but quickly went back to being excited. "Come on! She doesn't bite! Well, to be honest, I don't know if she can or not-"
I ignore him and push the door open, quickly wiping my filthy glasses on my shirt. I put them back on and almost faint in shock.
The inside of this 'Tardis' is alarmingly huge, with a strangely-shaped control desk and enormous vertical blue pipe in the centre of the room. The steep, orange walls rise up like the inside of a circus tent, forming a small point at the top. Not sure what sort of metal the floor is made of, but it reminds me of the grate covers that are placed on top of drains.
The man closes the door behind me and marches to the centre of the room, still beaming with happiness. "Amazing, isn't it?"
All I can do is nod. "Ditto...incredible. Small on the outside and-"
"Bigger on the inside," The man finishes, doing a small dance. "Oh, I NEVER get tired of hearing people say that! It's so much fun!"
While I continue to gape on around the inside, the man does a quick dance on the spot before rushing over the control panels. He presses a few buttons and pulls a lever, causing some sort of pump inside the blue pipe to press up and down. Sudden loud hisses give me a slight jump scare, snapping me out of my daydream.
"Right then, Dakota!" The man shouts over the noise, rushing from one panel to the next. "Where would you like to go?"
I run over him in a state of confusion. "What?"
The man looks up, looking slightly annoyed. "Well, this is a time machine after all. So where would you like to go? The Stone Age? Ten sixty-six? Ooh, I know; Bondi Beach, fifteen eighty-five. Absolutely beautiful. And even better with none of those pesky surfers around-"
Another loud hiss interrupts the man, prompting him to run over to yet another control panel. "Well, hurry up and tell me; we haven't got all day!"
"Surprise me," I say hurriedly, instantly regretting it. Who knows where he'll take me..
The man beams, sprints across the room to hit more buttons and rushes back to the main control panel. "Well then! I'm in a Victorian mood today; how does nineteenth century London sound?"
He picks up my hand and motions for me to pull another lever. I do so gleefully, replying in my horrible English accent, "Absolutely delightful."
The man grins. "Brilliant. Allons-y, then!"
He pulls another lever and I'm nearly thrown to the floor as the box takes off into flight, swerving around for a few seconds before stabilising. My school bag goes flying past me my feet and through a set of doors on the other side of the room; hope my iPad is okay in there.
"Sorry, sir," I yell, hoping he can hear me over the loud roar of (what I presume to be) the engines, "but I didn't catch your name earlier."
The man glances at me, slamming a few buttons down as he goes. "I'm the Doctor."
"Just the Doctor?"
"Just the Doctor."
I laugh as I grip onto the panel, stopping myself from falling as the Tardis rockets upwards. I thought taking off in a plane was exhilarating, but this surpasses that by a long way. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."
The Doctor returns my smile as the Tardis stabilises again, settling down with a gentle thump.
I let go of the control panel and wipe down my glasses again. The Doctor claps his hands together before rushing to poke his head out of the Tardis. "Aha! Exactly where I wanted. London, eighteen fifty eight. For once you got us to the right place, old girl," The Doctor pats the door of the Tardis gratefully.
"What's happening right now?" I ask curiously.
The Doctor sticks his head out again. "If I'm right - and I usually am - we should be witnesses to the birth of Big Ben's bell."
As if on cue, my Fit Bit beeps wildly, showing the time as ten o'clock.
"Ah. You'll have to leave that here, I'm afraid. I know the Victorians are no strangers to new technology, but that's well ahead of its time." The Doctor tells me.
"Well I'm not stupid enough not to, aren't I?"
He shuts the doors and runs through the other set of doors, emerging a few seconds later with a pile of clothes. Dumping half of them at my feet, he turns to head back through the same set of doors. "Well you can't exactly go out wearing that, now can you?"
I look down at my uniform. A navy knee-length skirt and tights, baggy white shirt and a woollen blazer don't exactly fit my description of 'Victorian'.
Once the Doctor has left, I bend down and pick up the clothes at my feet. To my annoyance, he's picked out a forest green long-sleeved dress, with black gloves, a corset, heeled boots and numerous hair ties for me to wear.
The dress is two sizes too small, with the corset almost choking me to death the second I strap it up. I don't know what material its made out of, but I do quite like the feeling of this dress. Sure, it's heavy and has stupid white frills on the ends of the sleeves, but otherwise it looks quite fashionable for a Victorian lady.
I'm lacing up the boots by the time the Doctor walks back in. He's dressed in almost the same outfit as before, only he's changed to a black coat, white shirt and leather shoes, as well as a black bow tie. He even went and got himself a top hat, the smart alec.
"Don't you look fabulous," I say, standing up straight to put my glasses back on. "Are these okay to wear? Otherwise I'll pretty much be blind."
The Doctor frowns before nodding. "Don't think they'll notice the Ray Bans logo, but just be careful."
I throw my head forward, sending my hair flying past my face. I pull it back into a ponytail and put it up into the nicest bun I can manage; why I'm hopeless with hair, I honestly don't know, but it'll do for now.
Skipping towards the door, the Doctor holds it open for me to walk through into the outside world. We've landed in what looks like an old factory, the loud sounds of machinery piercing my sensitive eardrums. It's almost entirely made out of metal or wood, with the only light source being a few gas lamps.
I shiver in the cold. This dress sure isn't keeping me warm.
The Doctor leads the way, navigating his way through the twists and turns of the factory. There is almost nothing colourful in this place. The walls are grey, the floorboards are rotting, the lights are extremely dim; it's the perfect place for a punk band to do a photo shoot.
We come across an exit, though when the Doctor tried to open the door it's revealed to be locked. He doesn't curse or anything; very calmly he pulls out a thin, silver stick and flashes it at the door handle, emitting a strange buzzing noise and blue light.
"The guy who tried to kidnap me had one of those," I tell the Doctor, who opens the door with ease. "What exactly is it?"
"A sonic screwdriver. Does a lot of different things, though I can't remember exactly all of them," The Doctor holds the door open for me, closing and locking it behind us. "Anyway, welcome to Victorian London!"
We walk out of the alleyway the exit led us to and out onto the main street. I'm surprised to see no cars, but instead horses and carts going up and down the road; if you could call it a road in these days. A few people walk up and down the shops across the road from us, all dressed in heavy-looking clothing. Like myself, all of the women are in long, dark-coloured dresses. Some are obviously showing that they're wearing a corset underneath, making me feel extremely fat compared to them.
"Where to first?" I ask quietly.
He looks around and fiddles with a button on his coat. "I do feel like a drink myself, so how about a local pub?"
"Is that safe for someone like me?" I tell him. "I would like to avoid being abducted twice in one day, just sayin'."
"Of course. Perfectly safe. Just don't wander off, don't ask stupid questions and certainly don't walk into any alleyways; no one knows who Jack the Ripper is, even now," The Doctor says. "Oh, and if I tell you to run, just do it."
He takes off down the street, weaving in and out of the crowds of people. It's hard to keep up with him because of my heavy dress, so I try to walk as quickly as I can without looking like I'm trying to run.
Eventually the Doctor comes to a stop outside a small building on Fleet Street, the sign above the door reading 'Ye Olde Chesire Cheese'.
I manage to grab onto the Doctor's jacket before he goes inside and pull him to the side of the door. "This is a pub?"
"Well it's certainly not a cheese shop, now is it?" The Doctor retorts sarcastically. He straightens his bow tie before whispering in my ear, "I reckon it's one of the best pubs in Britain, mind you."
He grabs my hand and leads me inside, the mouth-watering smell of foods I don't recognise hitting me instantly. The pub mostly has men inside, chatting away with their meals, but I have spotted a woman here and there. No one looks as young as me, though; I wonder if even now teenagers weren't allowed in places like this.
The Doctor guides me to a small table towards the back of the room, grunting almost continuously "Excuse me" and "Pardon me" to every person who happened to be in our way.
I gracefully flop down into a seat, my sore legs and feet screaming out in relief. As secretively as possible, I loosen the laces of my shoes.
"How did people wear these things, Doctor?" I ponder, massaging my foot. "It's barely been half an hour and I already want to feed them to a shark."
"I literally don't know, to be honest," The Doctor says, pushing his chair back in. "Always despised that sort of footwear. No wonder women in the future'll complain of sore backs. Anyway, do you want anything to drink? I'll go and grab something for us."
"If it's not disgusting, just some water thanks." I reply gratefully.
The Doctor disappears back into the crowd of people, leaving me to my own devices. Since I don't know how a proper Victorian talks, I keep my eyes down and try to avoid any sort of conversation to not give myself away.
Without warning, a loud thump comes from somewhere. At first, when I turn around all I see is a wall and an archway opening, but the noise presses on; of course it must be coming from upstairs.
I get up from my chair and silently step through the archway, slipping away from the crowd undetected. There's nothing back here except for a few barrels and a staircase, with a dying lamp as the only source of light.
As quietly as I can in these stupid heels, I tip toe my way up the stairs, cringing every time it squeaks or creaks. I'm almost the at the top when a voice startles me, so I settle for a few steps further down and begin to listen.
"You're being unreasonable, Cran. All I'm asking for is a little bit of money. Six hundred pounds is hardly anything to someone as rich as you."
That's definitely a man's voice. But six hundred pounds? I have no clue how much a pound is worth, but that sounds like a lot of money.
"I refuse to give scum like you any sort of payment unless there's something in it for me," The man who I presume to be Cran answers stiffly.
"Hey, look. Let money do the talkin' instead. So how 'bout it?" The first man presses on. "Six hundred pounds. And in return, you get to help me with the one of the greatest crimes committed in history."
Cran gets up and starts to pace slowly. "What sort, Michael?"
"Ooh, it's a good one! Real good. Not like other ones. This one's actually good."
"Just tell me what it is; I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."
"Alright, alright," Michael reluctantly says. "I got contacted by this organisation a few weeks ago. They promised me a good reward if I help them, so I've been helping to build a weapon that is..quite different, to say the least. I'll need more money if I am to finish it, though."
I can hear Cran sighing. "And if I gave you this money, what's in it for me?"
"That part I haven't worked out yet," Michael says truthfully, "but I'm sure a great mind such as yourself could help me figure it out."
Cran smirks and gives Michael a pat on the back. "Alright then. We'll meet to settle the details tonight at my house."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Cranberi."
The two men shake hands, prompting me to hurry down the stairs and back to my table, where the Doctor was patiently sitting, eating his lunch.
"What'd I tell you? Don't wander off!" The Doctor says, taking in a mouthful of food. He swallows before continuing. "Honestly, I just want to have one companion who doesn't-"
"Shut up and listen," I say quietly. "There are two men who are about to come downstairs that I think are trying to be the Victorian equivalent of terrorists."
He gives me a surprised look, but continues eating. As though as they'd heard me, the footsteps of two men approach from behind. Out of the corner of my eye I take note of their appearances as they walk past; one is short with black hair and a beard, the other fairly skinny, with short blonde hair and a top hat.
"Was that them?" The Doctor asks when they're out of earshot.
I nod in reply. "Don't know who was who, but they were discussing funding for this new weapon one of 'em was creating."
The Doctor hurriedly finishes his mouthful. "Did they say what it'd do?"
"Nah. Said they'll discuss it at their place tonight."
I pick up my glass of water and take a quick swig, not caring how unladylike it looked to others. "Is there anything in the history books that says they should be doing this? I don't remember reading about anything like this in class."
The Doctor shakes his head. "Doesn't sound right. To be completely honest though, I've never been to this particular year. But," He proclaims, taking a final bite of food, "it sounds like something we should keep an eye on."
We don't discuss it any further as I eat, instead observing the world around us. I notice that only a few people use some sort of slang here; almost everyone else 'speaks properly'. If only people would do that back home..
Once I finish my meal, the Doctor pays and we head back to the Tardis for a bit of (as he called it) 'brain-thinking time'. To my absolute relief, I'm now able to loosen this corset and actually breathe for a bit.
"So what'd you think so far?" The Doctor asks eagerly. "Always loved the Victorian era. You humans came along so far then. Absolutely brilliant."
"I think it's amazin'!" I tell him. "So many new clothes, new people; it's like a whole other world."
"Yes, well, I've heard others say things quite similar to that," The Doctor laughs. "Never get tired of it in the slightest."
I laugh. "You must really enjoy being a time traveler, don't you?"
"Oh yes. Best fun anyone could ever have, I'll say," The Doctor admits, taking off his bow tie. He throws it across the room and takes my hand. "But there's something else I haven't shown you yet."
I start laughing as he glides across the room towards the second set of doors, taking my arm and the rest of me with him. He pushes them open and leads me through, saying, "And you thought that room was big!"
In front of us is an impossibly long corridor, with different coloured doors along each side. Yes, the roof isn't that high this time, but it's still a pretty long way up.
"Wow," is all I can get out.
He can't stop laughing at my reaction, doubling over and holding onto one of the door handles. "..That's probably the best one I've had..for a while.."
Still cracking himself to pieces, he stands upright and starts off down the corridor. "Alright. Enough excitement. Allons-y!"
He shoots off and practically skips down the corridor, talking to me as he goes. "Now that red door on the left I'm pretty sure leads to the library slash swimming pool, but then again everything got reshuffled last Thursday so that might now go to the zero room, but honestly I don't know.
"That blue door coming up now on the right? If you ever need me, that's my room. And oh look - there's Rose's old room. Brilliant. You kept it, old girl," He pats the wall of the Tardis and turns around to look at me. "She used to travel with me, by the way."
I nod, still taking it all in. "And every door leads to a different room?"
"Oh yes," He says excitedly. "I love it when it all gets switched up; makes even going to get food an adventure."
"Wait, 'switched up'?"
"Yeah. The Tardis is a living thing, mind you, so sometimes it does a little bit of 'rearranging' for me. Usually it's not a problem, but occasionally I can end up looking for a room that happened to be in the same place and I didn't notice," The Doctor explains. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be chasing after your room one day, though that is up to you..
He breaks off and dashes back to the main part of the ship, with me jogging after him. What does this man eat? He's like an alien version of The Flash!
"Wait!" I shout, running after him. "Aren't we going to do anything about that weapon thing?"
"Yes. No. Hang on." The Doctor says, contradicting himself. "I don't know yet. I need to find out more before we can go any further."
"What's your plan?"
"Lay low for now. There is a possibility that they could've seen us discussing it; it'll be safer if we stay here until later."
"Alright then," I say confidently. I further loosen the laces at the back of my dress, take out my bun and let my hair flow back to my shoulders. "I hate this corset."
The Doctor smiles. "Well, I don't see how they're comfortable in any form. You humans have had some interesting fashion choices over the years; just wait till you see what you wear in twenty years time. Absolutely. Hideous."
He puts full dramatic effect into his speech, making me smirk.
"Have you seen some of the clothes people my age wear?" I tell him. "I swear, some of them look like they crawled straight from the gutters."
The Doctor starts laughing, promptly undoing his bowtie and throwing it around the room. "I can't say us Time Lords do any better."
"Is that what you are?" I ask slyly, crossing my arms. "I thought you weren't human, but I've never heard of a Time Lord."
The Doctor sighs heavily, but gives me a slight smile. I swear I can see a tear in his eye. "That's because I'm the only one left."
"What? Why?" I ask in surprise, my eyes following him as he strolls around the room.
"..It's complicated."
"Oh come on. It can't be more complicated than the plot of Game of Thrones."
He stops walking and lifts his eyebrow, clearly amused. "You have the most amazing sense of humour, you know. Not as good as-"
"Seriously?" I undo the laces of my boots and kick them off. "People back home tell me to stop snarking so much."
"Well then," He says, "I hereby approve this 'snarking', so long as it's funny."
I smirk. "Yes, your lordship."
"Molto bene," The Doctor says happily. "Well, I'm glad that's settled."
"Hey, um, can I go get changed somewhere? Please?" I ask shyly. "I refuse to spend one more minute in this dress."
The Doctor thinks for a moment. "Go down the hall and through the first pink door on the left. I have a feeling the Tardis has made room for you."
"You can talk to your ship?"
He gives me a casual look. "Oh yes. She's practically my best friend. Aren't you?"
To my shock, the Tardis makes a faint but audible groaning noise, causing the Doctor to smile.
"I think she likes you." He explains.
I nod slowly and start to head out of the room. "Well I thought this whole time-travelling thing was weird. I wonder what was in that meal the pub gave me."
Shutting the door leading into the hallway, I catch glimpses of the Doctor laughing quietly. It makes me feel good knowing that someone appreciates my humour. It's been a long time since that's happened.
Following the Doctor's instructions, I make my way down the hall until I come across a wooden pink door. I nearly have a heart attack when I open it, for it is an exact replica of my room from home.
The mint green bedspread; the cream wall next to the bed; even my pink and white rubbish bins on my desk are there. Tears of joy and surprise run down my cheek as I drop everything and walk inside.
I rush over and open the wardrobe; all of my clothes, including my countless coloured hoodies, are hung up the exact way I remember them being this morning.
"How are they real, though?" I ask, reaching out to grab a hoodie, it feeling very much soft in my fingertips.
My desk is still as messy as before, with three packets of chips, useless scraps of paper and countless mint containers spread all over it. The only thing that isn't there is my school bag, which I remember is still in the main control room.
I gently touch the nearby wall. "How?"
The Tardis groans in reply, but I have a feeling it already knows I can't understand it. Another tear slips down, landing on my dress.
"Thank you," I say gratefully, feeling the pleasant groan of a reply beneath my fingertips.
I undo the remaining laces and slide out of the dress, letting it crumple into a heap on my floor. Throwing off the corset and remaining undergarments, I throw open the wardrobe and survey my choice of clothes, picking a comfy hoodie and some trackies.
Eventually I flop backwards onto the bed, hearing the familiar squeak of the frame as I sink into the mattress, the soft pillow beneath my head. Somehow the bed is still warm; can the Tardis replicate feelings of touch, too?
Pushing aside my worries, I don't even realise how tired I am until I fall asleep.
I don't know how long it's been or what time it is when I wake up, but what I do know if that I feel horrendous. Like something has been sucked out of me, draining me of any energy I had left.
Ignoring this zombie-like feeling, I head out into the main control room, embarrassed at the big yawn I give when I say, "Hey mate."
But he's not there.
I give the air a confused look before running back down the hallway, calling out for the Doctor as I go. Yet no one answers.
I sprint back to the control room, my heart fluttering in my chest. I really need to get more exercise, I think; surely that hallway isn't that long.
As I double over and try to catch my breath, I catch a glimpse of something white on the other side of the room. Upon walking over, I notice it's a note stuck on the door of the Tardis.
I rip the paper down and hurriedly read the message scrawled in messy handwriting.
Gone to find those men. Don't come after me.
I look up at the door, not caring about the sarcasm and anger creeping into my voice.
"That son of a witch."